


Letters

by IntrovertedWife



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable, F/M, Ficlet, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Short & Sweet, Sweet Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrovertedWife/pseuds/IntrovertedWife
Summary: With the Inquisitor off on a mission, Cullen writes her a letter he has to get off his chest. Super sweet.





	1. Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyGoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGoat/gifts), [nlans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nlans/gifts), [Space_aged](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_aged/gifts), [Ms_Saboteur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_Saboteur/gifts), [zimafreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimafreak/gifts), [LilithRevised](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithRevised/gifts), [Riana1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riana1/gifts), [Atodd8200](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atodd8200/gifts), [Beckily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckily/gifts).



> If you don't want to read off the image, I have the text itself in the next chapter.


	2. Letter Text

No doubt this letter confused you. I must admit, I haven’t had much opportunity to compose anything of a personal nature in a great time. Perhaps it’s foolish. You’re busy, as am I. Work never seems to cease, each step forward ending in four back it seems.

I watched you walk out that door, the same gate you’d passed hundreds of jobs before, always returning. Each trip, no matter how minor the mission, no matter how short the duration, I’d watch. My head pressed to the cool stones of the window, I’d watch until your mounted silhouette vanished over the horizon.

It sounds more pathetic now that I put it down, as if I’m some maiden in a tower pining for a knight. It’s not that I ever think you might fall. On the contrary, in every step of this march since Haven itself I’ve always believed fervently in your success. My intentions with this letter were not to draw doubt upon your skills or talent.

The truth, the reason for this waste of a messenger’s time and expensive vellum is I love you. Perched at my desk and staring at the puttering candles all that sloshes through my sluggish veins is an infernal fear I could never tell you. Not in the future, but in this moment with you so far from me.

To explain how you are so much more than I could ever have wanted. Hoped for. Needed. You shattered my defenses with a look. Brought me trembling to my knees and raised me back to my feet. I have never felt so stripped clean as I do in your arms. Your mere presence is a balm to my wounded soul, one I would give everything to hold forever.

I crave you. Ache to taste your lips, to crumble in your embrace, to savor your thighs trembling astride my face, and smile as you come undone below me. The promise of your gasps pleading for more enflame my heart and distract from the despondency of war.

My dreams may be forever locked in nightmares, but my thoughts — my waking moments — are devoted to you. You are a fragrant wine from the blush of summer inebriating my mind and tongue, and liberating the man I feared was forever lost to the chains. Never did I imagine I’d become the sort of man who writes a letter of love. Of devotion. A declaration that what I want most from this world, from the Maker Himself, is you.

I know you will return to me, pass through those same gates and into my arms. And I needed you to know how I will stand with my forehead pressed to the those stones waiting for you.

I love you.

 

_Cullen_


End file.
